


Coming to Know You

by transdamen



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Mentions/Depictions of Past Sexual Abuse, Politics, Rating May Change, Sex in later chapters, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Porn by Trans People, War, warnings apply to later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transdamen/pseuds/transdamen
Summary: Omegas have always been quite rare in the royal families.So when Prince Laurent is born, an agreement is made between Vere and Akielos to have him become betrothed to the Crown Prince Damianos. What could go wrong, right?This is a study of an alternative universe where shitty things still happen to Laurent but this time, he has Auguste and Damen by his side to help deal with it all.NOT ABANDONED!! Just super busy!!





	1. An Adequate Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! This is my very first Captive Prince fic (although I have many ideas haha)! I also haven't sat down to write something that wasn't an essay in so long, but I'm out of school with a nasty cold so here we go!! 
> 
> I've been in this fandom for a while and there are some freaking amazing writers !! Anywho, we'll see where this fic takes us! Knowing me, it'll probably be a long process but I hope to be able to update a chapter a week!  
> Pray for me lol xx

The spring is such a vibrant time in Akielos, when the humidity sets in and the weather changes from mildly warm to hot, triggering a violent bloom of foliage. The markets fell into full swing that morning, flowers bundled together in colorful displays and vegetables filling the air with sweet smells.

The sweet aromas of spring wafted through Damianos’ bedroom window, the light breeze swaying the pearl colored curtains. Damen roused in his sleep, laying in languish, stretching his limbs among the soft fabric of his bed. His bedmate groaned in response, attempting to burrow further into the downy duvet.

Damen rolled away, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his wild curls. Rising from the bed, he padded his way through the double doors and to a balcony overlooking the seaport. He yawned absentmindedly, watching as crates were unloaded onto the dock, Jord’s familiar figure walking amongst the men to direct them.

Laurent would be arriving soon if he hadn’t already. Damen tried to mentally prepare himself for the long month ahead, filled with formal dinners and performances meant to please the foreign prince as he got to know his future husband. Damen scoffed to himself softly; as if Laurent would purposely try to get to know Damen. They had tried to cross that bridge long ago, with no success. For now, Damen would let the hot-headed serpent prince spend his free time as he pleased. 

Damen left his room to bath and prepare for the day ahead, leaving his bedmate to lounge and sleep some more. After a refreshing bath, Damen went back to his quarters, noting the empty bed. He chose to dress in an ivory colored chiton, emblazoned with a deep red trim that nicely complimented his dark skin.

He made his way out of his room, remembering to grab a small gift from the chest by his bed before he met with Laurent, a smile on his face in hopes of faking his excitement until it became genuine.

 

* * *

 

“Exalted One, long time no see.” 

Damen laughed, “Jord, you know I’m not the king yet.” 

Jord dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. “I’ll never truly understand Akielos’ royal manners, and as long as your father never hears me say it, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Damen noted the numerous crates being stacked onto a cart. “More books I presume?”

Jord sighed. “You know how his Highness is—”

“Akielos literature is barbaric and lacks the intelligence of Vere.” Damen quoted with a roll of his eyes. “Oh I remember all too well, it just appears that Laurent has brought double the novels this time around.”

Jord shrugged, “Probably another excuse to spend the entirety of his visit here in the library.”

Damen sighed, nodded a departure at Jord and made his way through the market to grab something before he went to the library.

 

* * *

 

“Oh joy, Akielos’ darling crown prince has given me the pleasure of his visit. How cute.”

Laurent was lounging on a chair with the utmost tight posture—if it could even be called lounging.

Damen smiled brightly, “Laurent, it’s good to see you.” He presented the bouquet of flowers and present from behind his back. “I congratulate you on turning 16, may the rest of your year be filled with happiness and growth spurts.”

Laurent glared at Damen, standing up and noting with a blush that Damen still stood quite a few inches above him.

“Unlucky for you, I still have time left to grow, so I will personally see to it that when I match you in height and strength I will wipe you flat on your ass.”

Damen laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the empty stacks. “I look forward to that day, little prince.”

This infuriated Laurent more, as he seemingly bristled at the nickname. Laurent snatched the gift and flowers from Damen’s hand, inspecting them with vague disdain.

“Hm. Hopefully, this gift won’t be as awful as last years gifts.”

Damen gave a sly smile. “Really? Because if I remember well enough, Auguste mentioned in a letter that you had finished the book before you even arrived back to Vere…”

Laurent’s blush deepened and he turned away to hide his embarrassment. “Well, he lied. I threw the book into the ocean after one chapter because the dialogue was so dull and lackluster.”

Damen smiled fondly, turning to leave. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect any less of you. If you care to join me for lunch, I’ll be in the gardens with a couple more birthday gifts…”

Damen left, still smiling as he had noted the curious glance on Laurent’s face. What an open book his little prince was.

 

* * *

 

“How did you find your greetings with his royal bitch?” Nikandros panted, swinging his sword in a high arch to have it hit against Damen’s.

Damen laughed good-naturedly, grateful that Jord wasn’t around to report the cruel nickname back to Laurent. “Careful who you say that around, Laurent will have your head.”

“I’d love to see him try,” Nikandros grumbled, taking a moment to wipe the sweat off his forehead. 

“Auguste reports that he has taken up sword fighting and that he’s quite good at it,” Damen mentions, countering one of Nik’s moves. “Oh, that was dirty!”

It was Nik’s turn to laugh, “Can you blame me for trying for a rare victory against you?”

“All you had to do was ask! I’d gladly take it easy for you, Nik.” Damen set his sword aside, laying a friendly hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“Yeah yeah,” Nikandros groused, shrugging Damen’s hand off to put his sword away. “Don’t forget about lunch with your darling prince later today.” 

Damen’s cheek dimpled at that, and he shook his head fondly. “How could I? I was just going to gather his other presents before heading to the gardens.”

“Don’t forget to bathe,” Nik called after him. “You smell like a horse!”

 

* * *

 

Laurent was bathed in soft sunlight, if just for a moment before he moved into the shade to protect his porcelain skin.

“Am I to assume that my other gifts are more boring Akielos poetry books?” Laurent asked with disinterest, eyeing the wrapped gifts on the table.

“Let’s eat first, then you can berate me for my poor choice in gifts.” Damen teased before lifting a crystal goblet filled with pearlescent wine to his lips. 

The two ate in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the blooming trees and flowers around them. The distant tinkling of a fountain echoed through the open air, adding to the peaceful ambiance of the warm afternoon. 

When the two had had their fill of warm breads, cheeses, and fresh fruit, Damen nudged the small pile of gifts towards Laurent. 

“Okay, you can open them up now,” Damen mused, trying to stifle his smile as Laurent quickly grabbed the gifts with a poorly concealed excitement. 

Laurent hungrily soaked up the titles of the books, a pleased looked on his face as it was nothing he had read before. “Hm, adequate.” 

Damen’s laugh boomed through the garden, and Laurent turned his head away to hide a soft smile.

 

* * *

 

“Am I to save you a seat at tonight’s banquet?” Damen asked politely to fill the silence as they wandered through the bustling halls of the palace, all in preparation for the festivities tonight.

Laurent raised an eyebrow, “Well I’m not quite sure it would be polite to miss out on a dinner meant to welcome _me_.”

Damen ducked his head in embarrassment. “Of course. How is your brother doing? It pains me that he was unable to visit with you this time.” 

“Auguste sends his regards of course,” Laurent replied stiffly, wary to mention home now that his brother was king. “He’s heavily preoccupied with finding a mate, as Patras has sent a shipload of omegas as a gift to him.” 

“Well, that is definitely cause for preoccupation,” Damen chuckled. “I’ll have to send him a letter of good luck in his search for a partner.” 

Laurent looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You would know, having whores in your bed every night.”

Damen choked on air. “Laurent, if it truly bothers you, I can ban my quarters from any visitors.”

“Oh please, as if it would help anyone to have you pent up and filled with hormones,” Laurent said with a roll of his eyes. “No, you may continue whoring yourself out as you please, I care not.” 

Damen laughed. “Thank you, for giving me permission, little prince.”

Laurent bristled at that, shoving an elbow into Damen’s side. “I am not a child! I’m nearly a man now.”

Damen laughed loudly, raising his hands up in surrender. “Of course, of course. I see the small cat whiskers on your chin now.” He teased, poking at Laurent’s red cheek. 

Laurent whacked his hand away, attempting to walking faster away but Damen’s long legs were no match. “I grow stronger every year in hopes of knocking you flat on your ass, you big oaf.” 

Damen lengthened his strides to keep up with Laurent. “As soon as you gain some muscle, I will have no qualms against a sword duel. I am eager to see how your skills will match up against mine.”

“No wonder you’re so huge, I’m positive your muscles are filled with your ego,” Laurent teased. “If I stick a pin into your arm, will it deflate like a balloon?” 

Damen flexed his arm with a cheeky grin. “You’re welcome to try.”

“You’re insufferable.”

 

* * *

 

King Theomedes stood at the head of the table, a commanding presence in the banquet room. He raised a wine goblet, watching as the rest of the room mirrored his actions.

“The kingdom of Akielos welcomes Prince Laurent, may his sixteenth year be filled adventure and growth as he learns the ways of his future home. May he be treated with the utmost courtesy and care from his betrothed, my golden son Damianos. Akielos welcomes you home once more, Prince Laurent.”

The banquet guests cheered their assent and soon everyone was drinking and chattering away. To the right of Theomedes, Damen was watching Laurent, who was pretending to sip from his wine glass.

“Don’t look so annoyed, golden prince. I know you secretly enjoy these kiss-ass speeches meant just for you.”

Laurent snickered, hiding the laughter in his cup. “Do you kiss your whores with that mouth?”

Damen chuckled, checking to see if his father had heard the cruel language. “You are going to get us both in trouble.”

“I am the darling omega prince that will save this royal family from dying off,” Laurent mused, grabbing a sweet roll from off his plate. “I could do anything and your father would still adore me.”

“Unfortunately, you could not be closer to the truth,” Damen sighed, watching his brother drink his fourth glass of wine from across the table. “Just be glad you are betrothed to me, and not Kastor. I’m not quite sure he has the patience for such an attitude.”

“Oh, how lucky I must be,” Laurent grumbled, popping a piece of bread in his mouth.

“Lighten up, little one. I have more books waiting for you in your quarters, once you are done entertaining everyone here.”

Laurent brightened up at that, straightening up in his seat with interest. “You’re bluffing.”

Damen shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “Never. I know how quickly you read through those books. I thought I would at least try to keep you busy during your stay here. I know how boring Akielon past times appear to you.”

“You mean fucking and wrestling in the nude?” Laurent retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Forgive me if my more sensible tastes are not drawn in by those barbaric activities.”

Damen snorted into his wine glass, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “I was thinking less crude activities, like swordplay and horse riding.”

Laurent turned towards Damen in his seat. “Are you finally going to train with me?”

Damen smiled. “If you promise to behave and not stab me in the back, then yes I will train with you.”

Laurent turned back to his food to hide his pleased smile. “No promises.”


	2. Festivities of the Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha...ha...it took two weeks to upload this...yikes.
> 
> listen!! I had midterms, my little sister's birthday, and overall life craziness to deal with but!!! I am back with a chapter that is 3x the length of the last one! I hope that makes up for it hehe.
> 
> Believe me, when I say that I wrote this chapter at every chance I could get, so I hope you are happy with it! I'd like to keep the rest of the chapters between 4-6k words, so a decent size!

_My dear friend,_

_It pains me have to withhold from visiting Akielos this spring. I love for the beautiful culture of your home, and to spend a month’s time in peace and luxury._

_However, my country needs me, especially now in the still fresh mourning of my father. There is political unrest among my council. Specifically with those who think I am too young to rule._

_Those same people also gladly voice their unease at the other prince choosing to spend his time in a “barbaric” country with his future husband._

_More days than not I have to remind them of the political benefits of a marriage between two nations with a rough past._

_While I struggle with a split council, I pray that my brother doesn’t bring you too many gray hairs._

_Don’t let his cunning words fool you. He has dearly missed your company. Before he left, he asked that I not reveal his true feelings, but how can I resist teasing my little brother?_

_I apologize for his ridiculous among of books that had to be sent with him. He devours new novels with such a frenzy. On the other hand, I am fondly proud of him. He grows smarter each day, that I worry he might outsmart me soon enough._

_As of late, he has taken to reading Akielon political books—to perhaps gain a familiarity with his future home?_

_I know he will be a wonderful advisor to you someday._

_How has he been settling in? I hope he is well._

_How have you been? I pray that you and your family are all in good health. I wish you all the best._

_Auguste_

* * *

_My cherished friend,_

_It brings me great joy to hear from you! Your presence is greatly missed here, especially from Nikandros…_

_I’m sorry to hear that you are facing political difficulties within your own council. If I can be of any help, please let me know._

_Speaking of. How have you been holding up after your father’s sudden death? I know you were closer to him than Laurent was. I’ve noticed no difference in how your brother holds himself—even if the last time I saw him was at your father’s funeral. Of course, I wouldn’t put it past him to suppress his true feelings. Perhaps I’ll see to it to ask him about it._

_Other than that, Laurent is doing well. He greatly enjoyed his gifts (however much he tries to deny it). Thank you for the hint on the books. I’m grateful for the extra time I got to obtain them._

_This morning we went riding out to the river that we had all visited, a few summers ago. This time he was not too shy to jump in, and he drew great pleasure in trying to drown me by holding my head under the water. The weather has been amazing here, and everything is in full bloom._

_I was thinking of getting him a horse for his 18 thbirthday. Of course, that is a couple of years away, but I am looking to commission a horse breeder so that a foul will be born by Laurent’s birthday._

_As the palace prepares for the spring festival, I will take care to send you a few gifts, as I remembered how much you enjoyed the festivities. Hopefully, Laurent will not feel too uncomfortable with some of the activities._

_I know he takes care to respect my country’s rituals (no matter how much he bad mouths it), but I always want him to feel comfortable here—considering how he has been treated before. Just know that I will ensure that Laurent is well taken care of._

_I was not made aware that Lady Vannes would be joining Laurent on his voyage here. She is quite the character, as she has intrigued most of my guard. Despite all of the attention she has garnered, she has her focus on only one omega. She has become quite taken with Lady Jokaste, as I had seen them walking together in the gardens after Laurent and I had had lunch. I suppose if anyone could keep with Lady Jokaste, it would be Lady Vannes. Jokaste has just recently moved into the palace as she is the daughter of one of my father’s councilmen. She greatly enjoys messing with my brother (potentially leading him on) and causing jealousy among the other omegas in the castle. It would be refreshing to have someone to tame her. All in due time, I suppose._

_How has your search for a mate been? I understand that Patras has sent you royal omegas in hopes that one will catch your eye. I know that that will strengthen the political relationships between Vere and Patras. But if all else fails, I am sure my father would have no qualms against finding you an Akielon mate._

_I hope to hear from you soon, my friend._

_Damen_

* * *

 

_My dear friend,_

_Ha! Tell Nikandros that I miss him as well and that he will always be welcome in my home._

_As for the political murmurs amongst my council, let us pray that that is all it is—murmurs. It is difficult being without my father. I miss him dearly. While I understand that Laurent was never as close with him, it pains me to see him act nonchalant about it all. Without Laurent here, I am reminded of how empty this palace feels, and how I am truly alone as I weather the responsibility of being King. My fear is that those in dissension against me will take advantage of my vulnerable state. Laurent was always better at spotting the serpents within my council._

_I’m glad Laurent has enjoyed his gifts! I’m always happy to aid you in your search for the perfect gift. A sturdy colt is just what Laurent needs for his transition into manhood, and I can already see the glee on his face (poorly disguised) when he sees his gift._

_Thank you for taking care of my little brother. It eases my worries that he has someone to look after him. I can only hope that your council is void of snakes as opposed to mine. I can only handle so many reptiles…_

_As for Lady Vannes, she had mentioned a desire for diplomacy between our countries. Personally, I think she just had a craving for Akielon women. Hopefully, she doesn’t bring you too much trouble. Though from the sounds of it, she has her hands full._

_Searching for a mate is harder said than done. I know I have to marry and produce an heir for the sake of my country, but I can’t help but be optimistic to find a little love in all of this mess. Let’s hope I don’t end up disappointed. Patran women are lovely, don’t get me wrong. But my heart still holds a flame for your lovely friend. How would Nikandros feel about being consort to the King of Vere?_

_All jokes aside, I am glad you are doing well._

_Best wishes,_

_Auguste_

“Is that from my brother?” Laurent tried to peak over Damen’s shoulder, to no avail. “God you’re so tall, let me see.”

Damen folded the letter and tucked it into the front of his chiton, “And you’re so nosy, little prince. Did you not get your own letter?”

Laurent held his own letter in hand, guarding it close to his chest. “Yes. I just want to make sure you’re not bad mouthing me to my own brother.”

Damen chuckled, reaching a hand out to ruffle Laurent’s hair. “Nothing but sparkling compliments have left my mouth.”

Laurent regarded him for a moment before deeming his answer acceptable and turning to leave.

Damen followed him back towards the palace from the seaport, where the mail had arrived that morning.

“Are you excited for tonight spring festival?” Damen asked, watching Laurent fix his ruffled hair.

“I suppose,” Laurent replied. “If you’d call utter boredom excitement.”

“You could always escape away to the library if you so pleased,” Damen suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

Laurent faltered in his step, almost missed if you blinked. “Do you not want me there?”

Damen glanced at him from the corner of his eye, suppressing a smile and playing along. “It’s up to you. I can always sit along and watch the entertainments by myself…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m going,” Laurent rolled his eyes, turning his head away to hide his blush. “Only because I feel bad for you, having to endure those barbaric rituals all by yourself.”

“Of course, how kind of you,” Damen smiled fondly.

 

* * *

 

 

The ritual ofEfforía (meaning fertility) took place everything spring, in celebration of life and blooming crops. The evening would start out with a feast, filled with fresh meats, fruits, vegetables, and baked goods. Wine would flow freely among guests, loosening everyone’s inhibitions and putting everyone is good spirits. After the feast, a performance takes place. A chosen singer will sing an ancient Akielon song while slaves paint and decorate the performers. The performers are gathered from all over Akielos. Omegas who have newly turned 18 perform in the ceremony as a celebration of their fertility. Elaborate flowers and gold are painted onto their naked bodies as offerings to the goddess of fertility and spring. Flowers and olive branches are woven into their hair, making them appear as spring incarnate. After the song ends, a new one begins, and a dance is performed. This is all in hopes that the goddess will bless them with healthy children and plentiful crops.

And so the evening started, soft music filling the halls of the palace as servants rushed to finish preparing for the dinner.

Meanwhile, Laurent was hiding away in his quarters, warily eyeing the cerulean chiton laid down on his bed. He gently ran a finger down along the fabric, feeling its softness and the buttery feeling of the gold trim.

A knock sounded on his door and he jumped in surprise, quickly schooling his expression before turning away from the offending outfit in disgust.

“Enter.”

He turned to see Damen walk in, his dark skin highlighted by the fiery orange of his chiton. The rustic color brought out the bronze in his skin and hair—a prince of the sun.  
“Are you going to attend the festivities in your nightwear?” Damen teased, leaning against the bedpost.

Laurent whipped his head towards Damen in fury, cheeks blazing red. “Shut up, you brute. I just…” He hesitated, looking back at the blue cloth. “It’s such a small piece of fabric. It’s ridiculous that you barbarians have no sense of modesty.”

Damen smiled softly, sensing Laurent’s nervousness. “If you’d like, you could always wear your bed sheet as a chiton. I’m sure it would provide more coverage and modesty.”

Laurent scoffed, snatching the chiton off of the bed and marching towards an adjoining room. “Fuck off.”

Damen waited patiently, glancing around Laurent’s quarters for any sign of personalization. He noted with glee the wide array of books scattered around the room, all of which were Damen’s gift to Laurent.

“Enjoying my gifts?” Damen inquired, smiling as Laurent reentered the room, tugging at the bottom hem of his chiton.

“No, they’re absolutely boring,” Laurent grumbled, peering into a long mirror to adjust the chiton as needed.

“That color looks lovely on you,” Damen complimented.

“Given your tastes, that means I look ridiculous,” Laurent snapped, face red as he stalked across the room to grab his sandals.

Damen shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it, but you always find ways to twist my words.”

Laurent fiddled with the clasp at his shoulder. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Well, whether or not you look decent in the chiton, we are late to dinner,” Damen held the door open, gesturing with his arm. “Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

The atmosphere was alight with laughter and good moods, excitement crackling through the air at the upcoming speech given by the Crown Prince. The darling prince had arrived with his betrothed on his arm, a beautiful picture of contrast and royalty.

Damen sat at the head of the table, as he was in charge of introducing the evenings' activities. The Crown Prince or Princess was always in charge of Efforía, as they were meant to be a symbol of fertility in the royal family. Prince Damianos was a shining example of fertility, as one look at his physique could confirm that he would produce many heirs in his prime.

As the guests settled into their seats, Damen rose from his, a hush running over the crowd.

“People of Akielos, it is my greatest pleasure that I welcome you to our Efforía festival. For centuries, our nation has celebrated the fruitful bringing of Spring and fertility. May the goddess of fertility and spring bless this season and give us a plentiful crop and healthy children.”

The guests around the table looked up at Damen in awe. He had a way of commanding a room. He was a natural leader, his voice carrying across the banquet hall. All those who had been in his presence could attest to the fact that he would be a great king someday. It showed on his father’s face as well; guests who weren’t looking at Damen in awe could see King Theomedes looking at his son with pride and love. Of course, if one looked close enough, Kastor’s smile could be revealed as fake and disguising annoyance.

As Damen’s speech came to a close, the crowd erupted in cheers, congratulating the crown prince for his genuine address.

Soon after, the dinner began, and everyone enjoyed the rich and plentiful supper that was laid out on the dark wooden table. A wide array of slow-cooked meats was surrounded on silver platters by bright vegetables. Bowls filled with sweet tarts, topped with assorted nuts and sweetmeats caught the eye. Steaming breads and bowls with ripe fruits filled the air with its rich aroma. The feast was a sight to behold and everyone in attendance indulged themselves.

After a leisurely dinner, Damen rose once more, taking a sip from his wine goblet before his second address of the night.

“I hope you all thoroughly enjoyed dinner. Now it is time for our main entertainment to begin.”

Everyone moved into a large area, with seats surrounding an open stage. The stage was framed by thick red curtains, pulled and tied aside to allow more room. Torches were lit throughout the room, bathing it in a soft glow. A large harp was placed off to the side of the stage, with a small table near it. Bowls of paints and brushes were set on the table, each paint a bright color of spring.

As everyone settled into soft cushions, a group of young men and women entered the room. Each was aged at 18, as this ceremony was a rite of passage for any omega coming of age. It was a celebration each spring, for any omega that came to the fruition of their fertility. A dance was performed, to thank and pray to the goddess in hopes that each omega will be blessed with healthy children.

“Why are they nearly naked?” Laurent muttered, settling into his cushion next to Damen’s.

Damen laughed softly, handing a bowl of sweetmeats to Laurent. “Because they need a canvas for the paint.”

As if on cue, slaves arrived onto the stage, surrounding the omegas as paints were passed around. The slaves worked diligently, painting each omega with a vast array of floral designs and patterns. Each person was painted uniquely, with the colors chosen carefully to complement their complexion. Jokaste was among the group getting painted, soft pink flowers covering her hips and breasts. Gentle blue petals running up the elegant line of her neck and framing her jawline. She looked like the goddess of spring herself.

Lady Vannes seemed to think so too, as she had muttered a breathless curse under her breath from beside Laurent.

The casual conversation among the crowd ceased as the slaves left the stage and left the omegas to get into position. Another slave entered the room and position himself behind the harp, raising his hands to begin the song.

A gentle melody rushed over the room, one that spoke of hope and rebirth, of a chance to start anew.

And so, a dance began one that radiated reverence and worship for the sacredness of life. Limbs rose above heads, as if in prayer to the goddesses above. Bodies moved as one in an ancient dance that had been performed by omegas for centuries. The music seemed to guide their bodies, the flowers painted on their bodies writhing and dancing with the gentle harp. Everyone was entranced, and as Damen looked over at Laurent, he could see that the young prince was on the edge of his seat. His eyes were unblinking, watching every movement with an unreadable expression.

Time seemed to sit still as the performance went on, the performance hypnotizing the audience in. In the end, there was a silence across the room, before cheers erupted in praise for the amazing performance. Damen looked back to Laurent while he clapped, only to stop as Laurent got up and left without a word.

Damen made to stand up but was stopped by a hand on his wrist.

“Be careful, brother,” Kastor murmured, speech still slurred from the wine. “You do not want to cause unnecessary gossip in the courts if you spend too much unsupervised time with His Highness.”

Damen snatched his hand away in annoyance. “You fill your head with unclean thoughts. As if I would touch the boy before he is a grown man. You are drunk, brother.”

Damen left the room, followed Laurent through the passageways that led to the main corridors of the palace.

“Laurent!” Damen called after him, but his retreating figure only seemed to speed up in an attempt to get away. Damen picked up his pace; and since his strides were longer, he caught up with the prince shortly.

“Did you not enjoy the performance?” Damen asked, slowing his pace down along with Laurent’s. “I understand that this is your first year watching the dance.”

Laurent crossed his arms, a petulant look on his face. “Are you asking if I enjoyed a performance meant to objectify omegas?” Laurent scoffed.

Damen stopped in his walk, placing a hand on Laurent’s arm to stop him too. “Wait, wait. Can we just talk for a moment?”

The two moved towards the gardens, where the sweet spring air appeared to ease Laurent slightly. They found an empty bench, laid under a large willow tree with fresh blossoms in full bloom.

“Forgive me if I am confused by this sudden change of behavior, Laurent,” Damen sat near him, face open and honest. “You gave off the impression that you were fine with all of these festivities.”

Laurent sighed, shoulders drooping as he prepared himself for a moment of vulnerability, knowing that he could trust Damen with his true feelings.

“I…I did not want to disappoint your father, or disrespect your culture,” Laurent murmured. “I know that this is to be my home someday, and I would hate to create any ill feelings in the court if I openly objected your cultural practices. But…”

Damen encouraged him to continue. “Please, speak your mind freely Little Prince, there is no judgment from me.”

Laurent flashed him a look that could have been fondness, had it not come and gone so quickly.

“All of my life, I have been subjected to the ideas and morals of Vere’s Court. A court that claimed to worship Omegas, if only for their useful purpose in life. It is not like here in Akielos, where we are at least respected. I find it difficult to believe in good intentions, despite how you have treated me. It simply brings me unease and discomfort to see Omegas treated as a commodity to be protected, something to be traded, as I have been. Since I was born, I have never been my own person. I have always been someone else’s political pawn. I want to be seen as more than that, you know?” Laurent took a deep breath as if to gather his thoughts again. “I want to have my worth come from my intelligence and personality, not from my status. I know I was not afforded the luxury of respect because of it. I know not if things would be different, had I been born an Alpha or Beta. Perhaps not, since I still sit in the shadow of my brother.”

Damen chose this moment to speak up. “You do not sit in the shadow of your brother, Laurent. You possess a light and beauty that is uniquely your own. You are very intelligent and cunning and witty. You hold worth that stands apart from being an Omega. While you will never rule in Vere, I know that you will change this country for the better, once you find your place by my side. I eagerly await the day when you can keep our kyroi and councilmen on their toes.”

Laurent smiled softly, turning his head to hide a blush at the compliments. “Do you really believe I hold worth aside from being Auguste’s brother? I am no Crown Prince.”

“If you could see what I see, you would never doubt your worth. You are amazing Laurent. I am deeply grateful to have you as my friend.”

Laurent whipped his head toward Damen, his eyes open in a rare show of vulnerability. At that moment, his innocence shined through, eyes wide with emotion.

All of this was gone in a moment, as Laurent schooled his features once more and returned to his cunning self. “I know not if I’ll be as good at kissing everyone’s ass as you do, but I can try.” He gave a sly smile and Damen laughed in return.

“I would expect nothing less of you, Little Prince.”

“Besides,” Laurent continued, rising from the bench to scale the willow tree’s thick branches. His lithe figure allowed him to climb the tree with ease, whereas Damen’s large body would have snapped a branch in half. “I have some ideas about your slave culture that should be taken into thought. I have no doubt that your father will find amusement in my thoughts being shared before the council.”

“I would expect nothing less of you, especially with your strong opposition to slavery in Akielos. I look forward to your eighteenth year when you’ll be given the opportunity to sit in on council meetings.”

Laurent stood above Damen, shaking a branch to rain pink blossoms onto Damen. “Your council will have a culture shock when I speak without regard to your ridiculous barbarian customs.”

Damen shook a couple flowers of out his hair. “Brat are you trying to make me look a fool?”

Laurent snickered, shaking the branch a couple more times before dropping down onto the bench again. “You do not need my help. You look like a fool all on your own.”

Damen grabbed a flower from his own hair, sticking it behind Laurent’s ear in defiance, grinning when Laurent turned away in protest.

“Will you join us tomorrow morning for the sports events?” Damen noticed that Laurent kept the flower in his hair but said nothing.

“Watch a bunch of naked men wrestle and boast about their strength?” Laurent wrinkled his nose in disdain. “No thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, as Damen was preparing for the first sports events of the day, he spotted Laurent speaking to Vannes near the end of the archery field. Damen smiled to himself, setting down the chest of gold medals and making his way to Laurent.

“Couldn’t resist watching naked men wrestle?” He teased, reveling in the two pink spots that appeared on Laurent’s cheeks.

“Actually, I just came to watch you lose. You could use the humility.”

Damen laughed in good nature, turning to greet Lady Vannes. She extended her hand in amusement and watched as Damen bent to kiss her knuckle.  
“Lady Vannes, how did you enjoy the Efforía performance last night?”

This time, Lady Vannes had an obvious blush on her face. However, this was accompanied by a sly smirk. “Oh, it was quite impressive. I would not be opposed to coming back next year for a repeat performance.”

Laurent rolled his eyes, and Damen reminded himself to ask him about that later.

“Laurent, are you competing in any of the events today?”

Laurent seemed to brighten up at that, nodded his head in barely concealed excitement. “Junior sword fighting and archery.”

“I will be sure to be there to cheer you on,” Damen promised, nudging Laurent’s shoulder with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll need a shoulder to cry on when you lose.”  
Laurent’s eyes narrowed, and he sneakily stomped down onto Damen’s foot, hiding his smirk when Vannes snorted.

“Don’t break the Crown Prince,” Vannes mused. “We wouldn’t want him hopping around on one foot for his events.”  
“Would that not be more amusing?” Laurent replied.

Damen shook his head, amused by how Veretians never failed to keep him on his toes—quite literally too.

 

* * *

 

 

The day went on, the junior sporting events happening first. Damen watched eagerly as Laurent took his place amongst the other young archers, fixing an arrow to his bow. A horn was blown, and Laurent went first, being the one of highest status. Damen leaned forward in his seat, excited to see how Laurent would perform. Auguste had told Damen that Laurent was participating in more physical activities, so Damen was eager to see how that translated into a competitive field.

Laurent’s form was nearly perfect, the way he held the bow, how his arm was strung back to tighten the bowstring. When he released the arrow, it went flying in a perfect spiral before hitting the center of the target. Damen leaped from his seat and cheered loudly, uncaring of the attention it brought him. Laurent glanced at Damen from the corner of his eye and blushed, turning back to focus on releasing his second and third arrow. The second arrow landed right next to the first, still in the center of the target. When he went to set the final arrow, he seemed to pause, staying still deep concentration. Damen held his breath and watched in amazement as the last arrow soared through the air and hit the first arrow, splitting it in half.

Damen cheered loudly, ignoring Kastor’s annoyed look.

“You are annoyingly transparent, brother,” Kastor muttered, signaling for a slave to bring him more wine.

“Am I not allowed to cheer for him? It is obvious that he will win.”

Laurent ended up winning, indeed. Damen grinned with pride as Laurent came up to the dais to be given a medal.

“Congratulations Little Prince, Auguste was right, you have definitely improved your form,” Damen commented, ruffling Laurent’s hair.

Laurent didn’t seem to mind it, too busy looking up at Damen with a smile. “You better watch out, surely someday I will take your place as the prince with the most wins.”

Laurent ended up winning in the long and short sword, for which Damen awarded him two more gold medals. Damen tried to keep his expression schooled, as to not embarrass Laurent with his pride in him.

Afterward, Laurent joined Damen on the dais, allowing himself to be fanned by a servant. He glanced over at Damen and promptly took his goblet filled with water, downing it in one go.

“Did you tire yourself out?”

Laurent just glared and ordered that the cup be filled once more. Damen grabbed the goblet before the servant could come back, filling the cup with more water.

Laurent took a couple sips before speaking up. “Sometimes I question if you are truly the Crown Prince.”

“Why is that?”

“You do unprincely things. Like filling up my cup. Do you have a secret desire to be a slave?”

Damen rolled his eyes. “Are Princes not allowed to have manners?”

Laurent didn’t reply to that, instead of looking out that the field, watching the next event with a neutral expression.

They watched the event in comfortable silence, the sound of spears hitting their targets filled the air, followed by cheering for the contestants.

“Did you know that Vannes and Jokaste are a thing?” Laurent questioned, turning in his seat to look at Damen with amusement.

Damen laughed. “I figured, with how Vannes has been eyeing Jokaste as of late. Why? Have you heard something?”

Laurent got a mischievous look in his eyes, and he leaned forward as if to tell a lewd secret. “Well, I know Vannes would deny it, but I ran into them last night on my way back to my quarters. Let us just say that Vannes had a lot of paint on her hands and Jokaste had some inappropriate smudges on her body.”

Damen laughed louder at that, clasping a hand over his mouth to keep the laughter in. He could only image Laurent’s reaction to seeing the two. “That seems just in character for them. They make a good pair.”

Laurent hummed, taking another sip of water before setting it down.

“Laurent,” This got his attention. “I…I’ve been meaning to talk to you…about your father.” At this, Laurent’s eyes narrowed, face shutting off from the open expression he had had a few moments ago.

Damen pressed on, determined to get in his say before Laurent took him apart with just his words. “Before you tear my head off, just know that this comes from a place of concern. I care for your wellbeing, okay?” He took a deep breath, contemplating taking his goblet back, if only for a moment.

“Auguste put you up to this.” It wasn’t a question. Laurent knew the tendencies of his brother and could see right through Damen’s plan.

Damen sighed, lifting a hand up in surrender. “Okay yes, he did--.”

Laurent made a frustrated noise and made to stand up.

“Laurent wait!” Damen held onto his wrist. “He has good reason to be. Please. Can we just talk for a little bit?”

Laurent looked between his wrist and Damen’s face, numerous emotions flickering across his features because it settled on exhaustion.

His shoulder’s drooped slightly, and he gave a small nod. “Okay, we can talk. But not here. After, while they prepare for dinner.”

Damen eased back in his chair, giving a solemn nod. “Of course. Anything you need.”

 

* * *

 

 

When the main events started, Laurent took Damen’s place to give out medals to the victors. Damen prepared for wrestling, stripping his sandals and chiton off, allowing a couple of slaves to cover his body in oil. He eyed his opponent from across the ring, noticing his attractive physique. The man was equal to Damen in terms of height but was leaner in his muscles. His complexion was darker than Damen’s by several shades and his hair curled close to his head. The two men met in the middle of the ring, arms wrapping around each other in anticipation. The round began, and the two men heaved, neither one moving in a show of strength. Soon, however, Damen got the upper hand and slammed the other man into the dirt, grunting as he struggled against him. Damen admired the struggle he felt when the man attempted to upturn him onto his own back. However, he would not let physical desires get in the way of a victory. The round was well lasted, but no one could match Damen’s sheer size and strength, and so the Crown Prince won.

Damen rose first, offering a hand to his opponent, who accepted it gladly. Slaves came forward to wipe the dirt and oil off of them, and Damen gave a good-natured smile.

“For a second, you almost defeated me.”

The handsome man shook his head, bashfully smiling. “You flatter me, Exalted. There is none who match your strength.”

Damen noted the twin dimples on his face and smiled back. “What is your name?”

“Cyril, Exalted.”

Damen gave him a once-over, letting Cyril know his interest. “Well, Cyril, if you’d like a rematch, feel free to come to my quarters this evening. I might even let you win.” Damen winked.

Cyril gave a delighted smile, returning the once over in appreciation.

“I will gladly accept that challenge, Exalted.”

Damen redressed and walked back to the dais to receive his medal, trying not to let the skip in his step show.

Laurent was waiting for him, standing at the head of the dais with a smirk on his face and a medal in his hands.  
“Did you watch me wrestle? Or did your Veretian sensibilities prevent you from doing so?”

Laurent glared, but his blush was very telling. “I watched, it was embarrassing to see you lust over your opponent so openly.”

Damen laughed, looking up at Laurent in a rare moment where he was shorter than the young prince. “You saw that, huh? Well, can you blame me?” Damen shrugged.

Laurent rolled his eyes, not answering and instead of hanging the gold medal around Damen’s neck. “You better get ready for the longsword event before you chase after that man like a pining pup.”

Damen grinned cheekily, giving Laurent a wink just to mess with him before going to pick his sword.

Damen conquered the long sword event with ease, his skill no match for the other men his age. He was trained to be a skilled warrior, and it showed in the way he swung his sword and blocked the other opponents strikes. The crowd cheered for him at the end of the match, when his opponent was on his knees, the tip of Damen’s sword pointing toward his throat. Damen helped his opponent up with ease, thanking him for the match. Afterwards, Damen walked back up to the dais to receive another medal from Damen.

“Impressive,” Laurent noted, hanging the medal around Damen’s neck. “I know of the only person who could beat you at the sword.”

Damen sat next to Laurent, graciously accepting a goblet of water from a waiting slave. “Oh really? Is it you?”

Laurent scoffed, shaking his head. “Perhaps someday, but no. Auguste easily matches you in skill, if not exceeds you.”

Damen contemplated it for a moment. “Perhaps. But also, I do believe I have the upper hand with strength and height.”

Laurent shrugged. “I’ll gladly place my bets on my brother, thank you very much.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day passed back in ease, and while supper was being prepared, Damen and Laurent snuck off to the gardens to talk. They found their way back to the willow tree from the previous night and sat side by side on the bench.

“Are you ready to badger me with questions?” Laurent began, trying to appear unaffected, but Damen could see the nerves start to show.

“I am not forcing you to be here nor talk about your feelings,” Damen replied. “I only come from a place of concern. You know this, Laurent.”

Laurent stared down at his feet, a shyness coming forward. “I was never as close to my father as Auguste was. My father idolized Auguste. But who can blame him? Auguste has always been perfect, the golden Crown Prince. I have always been seen as a political tool. The Omega with a nasty attitude. When I heard my father had been killed at a border attack, I did not know how to feel. I wanted to feel grief, but how can I grieve for a man who never noticed me? It still hurts, though. I feel as though I have lost my chance to make my father proud.”

Damen listened intently, feeling a pain for the boy who hid in his older brother’s shadow. “Laurent, you will always make Auguste proud. I know you have always looked up to him, and I hope that you will find in Auguste what your father never gave you. Auguste will always praise and love you, never forget that.”

Laurent gave a watery smile, running a hand under his nose and folding his legs to his chest. “Oh, I know. I could kill a man and Auguste would ask me if I had properly disposed of the body. There is nothing that could make him not love me.”

Damen laughed softly. “It is true. Auguste and I are very proud of you. You have come very far, despite the cards you have been dealt in life.”

A dark memory hung over them, one that spoke of a dark man long gone. Those days were gone, and a hidden secret that they shared with Auguste would remain just that, hidden. The fear of being discovered had long left, but it hung in the back of all their minds. A covered-up murder, one well deserved, had tainted them all.

Laurent stood up, dusting off his chiton and turning towards Damen. “Enough of sharing our feelings. We are men, we must act as such. Let us go eat, I am starved.”

Damen gave a laugh, grateful for the easier mood, and gladly followed the prince into the banquet hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER NOTES: yes, Damen is a hoe, what's new.  
> Also, we've been given a small peek at Auguste in this story! Don't worry, he'll have a bigger role soon!  
> Also, the fertility festival thingy. Efforia is a Greek word meaning fertility (I know, basic) and I just figured Akielos would need some sort of festival/ritual, being based on Ancient Greece (plus it fits nicely into the A/B/O dynamic).  
> What did you guys think of Jokaste/Vannes? I just needed some lady action in my story and so they will provide background plot!! Also, did you like the little taste of angst? There will be oh so much more to come ;) 
> 
> Enjoy! And as always, comments (both good and bad) are always welcomed! (also side note, I didn't really proofread this because I just really really wanted to post it so lmk if you see any mistakes!!)
> 
> xoxo


	3. Farewells

“Harder.”

“I am going harder.”  
“No, you’re not. You need to let your arch come over your head and hit with a harder force.”

Laurent let the tip of his sword hit the ground with a thump, huffing and shaking his head move the hair out of his eyes. He’s tried tying it back, but there were always a few strands that managed to escape the braid.

“We cannot all be as massive in size as you,” Laurent wasn’t complaining, he wasn’t. It just wasn’t fair that Damen could lug around huge swords with ease.

“If you want to be a great swordsman, you have to gain the muscle necessary to use these swords,” Damen twirled the sword in his hand, seemingly with ease. God. Was he even sweating?

“Is there a secret diet I have to adopt in order to look like a beast?”

“Maybe if you did not eat so many sweetmeats,” Damen teased, laughing hard as Laurent sent him a glare.

“It is probably something in the water here…” Laurent muttered to himself, taking up his fighting stance again.

The two practiced for a while more, Laurent’s movements beginning to take on a desperate edge. It was clear that he was allowing frustration to leak into his fighting, unhappy with how the training was going. Before long, Laurent turned away from the fight with a frustrated sound, flinging his sword on the ground.

“This is pointless! I am never going to beat you.”

Damen set his sword down, understanding that the match was over for today. “Why do you need to beat me? Simply gaining the skills necessary to defend yourself is enough.”

Laurent said nothing, choosing to sit down at a bench along the wall of the courtyard, watching Damen hang their swords back up. He was re-braiding his hair, trying to maintain his sense of being unfazed as Damen approached him.

“We do not have to train anymore,” Damen spoke up, sitting near Laurent and offering a goblet of cool water.

Laurent wordlessly accepts the glass, taking a sip to allow for his thoughts to gather. “I want to keep training. I understand the purpose of this, of becoming a better fighter. I just,” He hesitated a moment, looking down at his glass in a brief moment of vulnerability. “I would just feel better if I had the same skill sets as you and Auguste.”

Damen nodded in understanding. “That makes more sense. I just thought you wanted to bring my ego down.”  
Laurent snorted into his cup, quickly covering it up with a cough. “All I have to do is recite some sophisticated Veretian poetry and you look as out of place as any common fool.”

Damen chuckled at that, nudging his shoulder against Laurent as they rose and left the courtyard together. “I am attempting to familiarize myself with Veretian literature, but it is all so vulgar and cruel. Do you not have any fairytales in your country?”

Laurent rolled his eyes. “Of course, you would go for a material that suits your barbaric nature. There are fairytales, for children. Would those stories better suite your reading comprehension skills?”

“Ha, ha. Just wait, soon I’ll be reciting the fine arts just as well as you, Little Prince.”

“Oh, how I look forward to that day.”

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon, Nikandros joined the two princes for lunch, at Damen’s advice to get to know Laurent better. Damen’s closest friend decided to show up, despite his warnings that he would not enjoy himself all throughout the meal.

The three were settled under a canopy of trees in the palace garden, leisurely dining on roasted meats and vegetables drilled with sweet and salty sauces. The air was thick with humidity, and a few slaves stood near the three men, fanning them.

“How did you enjoy the Efforía festivities, your Highness?” Nikandros asked, with an insisting (but silent) prompting from Damen across the table.

Laurent gazed coolly at Nikandros, raising an eyebrow as he sat his fork down. “Personally, I found the ritualistic exploitation of omega bodies to be crude and barbaric.”

Damen snorted into his wine goblet, trying to fight between laughing and coughing at the realization that Laurent was simply messing with Nik.

Nikandros sighed into his own goblet, taking a deep sip to aid in enduring the next hour of lunch with the serpent prince.

“Excuse me if this is spoken out of turn, Your Highness,” Nikandros began a few moments later.  
“It is,” Laurent interrupted, not bothering to look up at him as he piled sweet meats onto his plate.

Nikandros continued, looking at Damen teasing Laurent for all of the sweets on his plate. “You have no true obligations in Vere, and if this is to be your home in the future, why not stay in Akielos full time?”

Laurent paused for a moment, thinking over the question with a look of concentration. However, no answer came of it; he simply resumed his action of arranging the sweetmeats in front of him.

Damen noticed this, entuned to Laurent’s wordless actions, and turned to face Nikandros. “Laurent is still young. He needs to be able to be with his brother. It would not be fair to separate them if Laurent has yet to have any responsibilities here.”

Nikandros shrugged as if to say, “Fair enough,” and went back his meal.

“Laurent is getting quite well at the sword, Nikandros. He almost bested me today,” Damen boasted, changing the subject for both Nikandros and Laurent’s sake. He didn’t think that Nik could handle more brutal teasing from the quick-witted prince.

“Key-word: almost,” Laurent grumbled (although he would swear it was no such thing).

“He has his brother to teach him the ways of the sword,” Nikandros said. “Why not teach him wrestling? No one wrestles better than us.”

Laurent crinkled his nose, and Damen looked away in discomfort. “Ah, well. Maybe when Laurent is older, if he’d like.”

“I would not like that, thank you very much,” Laurent interjected, twin spots of red showing high on his cheeks.

Nikandros saw the opportunity to tease him in return and took it. “If you are worried about being embarrassed in front of your future mate, I would be willing to teach you, when you are of age,” he said with an air of feigned indifference, thoroughly enjoying the way Laurent squirmed in his seat. “I would never pass up an opportunity to throw you on your ass.”

Laurent glared, the red spots growing brighter. “I’ll make sure to bring a knife to a ring then, so I can sneakily cut off your balls.”

Nikandros paled, hunching over his lap as if in pain.

Damen burst out in laughter, startling the slaves as his laughter echoed through the gardens.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, after a breakfast with the King and his sons, Laurent was set to leave for Vere once again. Damen walked with him to the docks, watching servants load crates and chests of Laurent’s possessions onto the ship. Damen managed to sneak another novel into one of Laurent’s chests, just so he could find the surprise when he got home. He had added a personal note on the inside of the novel, smiling at the thought of Laurent rolling his eyes at it.

For now, though, Damen watched Laurent boss people around, ordering various people to treat his book crates with better care. The little prince could be so quick with his tongue, always knowing what to say in order to put down his verbal opponent.

Damen looked over to his right to see Lady Vannes and Lady Jokaste having a rather passionate farewell. Damen would have blushed had he been a younger man, but he was no stranger to the passion of lovers departing. He had never been in love, but he had felt love for those who had shared his affections. Besides, since he was a boy, he knew that he would only be loyal to one man—his future mate, Prince Laurent.

Damen looked away from the two women, giving them some privacy.

Once everything was put away on the ship and in its place, Laurent turned towards Damen for a farewell.

“Well, I guess I will see you in a year, brute.”

Damen smiled softly. “I guess so. Try not to miss me so much.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. “Oh please. If one of us is going to be desperate for the other’s affections, it is you.” But Laurent soon began to look pensive and shy.

Damen stepped closer, concerned and aching to comfort the prince. “Laurent, tell me what ails you.”

Laurent was silent for a moment, appearing to be in deep thought. He looked around them for a brief moment and then promptly launched himself at Damen. Damen stood in shock for a moment before wrapping his arms around Laurent. Damen felt, rather than heard, Laurent mumble something into his chest.

“What was that?”

Laurent pulled back completely, straightening out his tightly laced jacket with precision and ease. Damen spotted the blush high on his cheeks but chose not to say anything.

“I said, if you tell anyone that I ever hugged you, I’ll stab you in your sleep.”

Damen tried not to smile, and instead nodded solemnly. “I will take that promise to heart, Little Prince.”

Laurent’s blush only deepened, and he made to walk towards the ship.

“Wait,” Laurent paused, turning back towards Damen. “You are a dear friend to me, Laurent. I pray you have an easy travel back home. Give my greetings to your brother, and make sure to write to me.”

Laurent nodded, a soft smile on his face that he quickly wiped away, walking towards the ship with his head held high.

Damen tried to commit the image to memory, knowing that the next time he saw his little prince, he would look much different.

 

* * *

 

 

_In Vere_

 

Despite it being spring, the air in Vere was still crisp and bitter, with the wind only intensifying it. Laurent’s hair whipped across his face as he stepped off the ship, but he paid no mind to it. Instead, he looked forward, to a small group of guards on horses; at the head of them, the shining golden King of Vere. Laurent couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he ran towards his brother. Auguste jumped off of his horse, opening his arms to welcome his brother home.

Laurent was spun around a few times, hiding his grin in Auguste’s shoulder, overwhelming joy flooding his body. If their behavior was unbecoming of a King and a Prince, no one spoke of it. The two brothers were as close as could be, and it was obvious that they missed each other dearly in the month that Laurent had been gone.

“Oh my little brother, have you grown in the time you spent in Akielos?” Auguste pulled back to get a better look at Laurent. Auguste stood taller than Laurent, almost two heads taller.

Laurent laughed, careless of the bitter cold wind hitting them both. “I was only gone for a month, brother. I doubt there is any difference in my appearance.”

Auguste inspected Laurent closer, feigning a deep concentration. “I do not know, you do look a little tanner. And perhaps taller. What have they been feeding you over there?”

“Only the best they have to offer. A little too much spices, if I am to be honest with you.”

Auguste threw his head back and laughed, a beacon of light in the dark country. Laurent was grateful that his brother was the one destined to be king. Auguste was the one with all of the charisma, he was the one who had won the kingdom over before he could even talk. He was the shining prince who would bring peace to the kingdom in his ruling years. He would bring more shining heirs into the world, he would save the cursed line of their family. Sometimes Laurent would think of how different everything would be, had he been the crown prince instead. Would he have been more charismatic? Or would history still bring him down the same path, to the same evil people to hurt and abuse him? Would the light of his youth still be snuffed out by a man who had a taste for young boys? Would he be a cold and calculating king to the people, with no love for anyone at all?

Laurent clung tighter to his older brother, claiming it was because of the cold wind. He felt his brother’s comforting arm around his shoulders and let himself breathe easy. There was no use thinking of another world where he did not have his brother to love him, and for him to love in return. He was here, with Auguste, and as long as his shining brother was alive the future held hope and light.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me brother, what is a fond memory you have of your visit to Akielos?” Auguste asked over dinner. The King had requested a private dinner that evening, desiring to catch up with his little brother in private. He had compromised with his councilors, promising a bigger banquet the next evening, to celebrate Laurent coming home.

Laurent pushed some food around his plate, admittedly missing the exotic spices of Akielos (though he would never say the words out loud). Coming home to tasteless food was familiar but lacked the comfort it had always held to him.

“Fond memories?” Laurent scoffed down into his wine, too stubborn ask for water instead. “I would not recall hanging out with the barbarians fond, per say.”

“Should I tell Prince Damianos that you find his company to be barbaric and dull?”

“No!” Laurent burst out, startling a nearby servant who was setting down their second course. “I-I, I mean…”

Auguste smiled slyly as Laurent stuttered over his answer. “Ease yourself, brother. I have no intentions of telling Damen anything that is not true.”

Laurent blushed, a telling sign to Auguste that what he spoke of was true.

“Perhaps,” Laurent muttered, just loud enough for only Auguste to hear. “He is growing on me.”

Auguste hid his smile behind a goblet. “Is that fondness I hear in your voice, brother dear?”

Laurent glared at Auguste from across the table. “Do not think I will not use my newly achieved sword skills on you, brother.”

Auguste laughed, ducking a bread roll that was thrown at his head. “Brother! Those Akielon barbaric tendencies are rubbing off on you! Now, please do tell about these sword skills you speak of…”

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Auguste had kingly duties to attend to, so he could not join Laurent for breakfast. However, he had left a note detailing when he would be available to spend time with him.

Laurent set the note aside, getting dressed for the day. He was pleased to be back into the comfortable suffocation of his tightly laced clothes, like a weighted blanket keeping everything in. Sometimes he felt as if everything he held close to his heart, all of his heartache and trauma kept safe and hidden by each carefully laced inch. He felt as if he let himself relax, everything would pour out of him, grotesque and plain for everyone to see.

Laurent stared at himself in a mirror, studied the plains of his face, the dark circles under his eyes from nightmares he never spoke of. He tried to lighten his eyes, to hide the hollow look that was hidden under his skin; a look that threatens to crawl from under his skin. He longed for the sun of Akielos, for once in his life. He longed to have the warmth seep into his bones and warm his cold soul. The warmth of his future home brought a life in him that he had not known since before he was a younger boy. Before claws had reached out and pulled him into the darkness.

He looked away from the mirror, gaze fixating on the chest of books he had opened the night before. He had fallen asleep the night before, reading a book that Damen had given him. It was a book of fictional stories, of Akielon heroes and the quests that destiny took them on. Because of that, Laurent dreamt of adventures. Of going on courageous quests, rescuing a damsel in distress, and slicing a sword through a man with rings on his fingers and a hunger in his eyes.

Laurent had found it amusing, the thought of rescuing a damsel. He doubted neither him nor the damsel would appreciate the gesture.

Laurent made his way through the palace, wanting to spend his day in the library until Auguste was available from his duties. He understood that kingly duties could be all-consuming, he had remembered the days when his father was king. He remembered days passing by without his father at supper, how he chose to take his supper in his personal quarters because of the overwhelming amounts of work that needed to be done. Auguste had once recalled of the time before Laurent was born. He had told Laurent of the tension in the palace, of the political climate between Vere and surrounding nations to procure a child that could be used for a marriage. In the end, after Laurent’s birth and the announcement of his status, King Aleron had decided that a political marriage with Akielos would end up the most beneficial. Otherwise, Akielos would remain the biggest threat to go to war with. He had needed to ease the tensions and bring both nations to an agreement. Laurent had been the answer.

“You hold a bigger role in the fate of these nations than you know, brother.”

Laurent had brushed him off, chalking it up to just admiration and hope. Laurent doubted he had such a great potential in his blood. He had always thought his purpose in life was to marry and have a few heirs before slinking back into the shadows of his superior. He had promised himself, however, to be of as great a help and use to his mate as possible. If he was to marry a future king, then he would try his best to be a useful consort. Growing older, he refused to accept that his only purpose in life was to be pregnant and raise children. Something burned within him for more, for adventure and purpose. He would do anything to achieve that for himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Laurent ended up running into Guion before he could escape to the library. He held in an irritated sigh as the man stopping him in his path.

“Your Highness. Should you not be with your tutor, learning arithmetic and the like?”

Laurent held his hands behind his back in a princely fashion, looking up at the man with a look of feigned innocence. “Should you not be selling your sons to vile old men, all for a small boost in political relevance?”  
When Guion paled in horror, Laurent only scoffed. “That is right, I forgot that all of your sons are too old to be appealing any more. I suppose it is a good thing you got to sell Aimeric’s body to my uncle before his untimely death, hm?”

Laurent moved past the man, ignoring the way his pulse violently beat.

“You have no idea of the war going on, right in our very council,” Guion spoke after him. “I would advise your brother to watch his back. God only knows which of the council still holds support for your uncle. This country is divided into its core and it will pay for it in the end. Mark my words.”

Laurent turned to face Guion again, but the man had already walked away. Laurent watched his back as he walked down the corridor. Laurent’s pulse sped up, his mind racing over the words of Guion. His brother’s position as king was at risk; he had to warn him.

He rushed to the library, keen on finding a particular book that would give him some answers as to what was at stake. If Auguste was assassinated, it was a question of whom would resume the throne. Laurent was bound to Akielos by way of the future marriage, but if Auguste was no longer in the picture, he wondered if he would be pulled out of the marriage or if it would continue. He doubted that two kings arranged to be married would make for a stable political scene. He was far from 21, so someone would have to fill the role of ruler, but his uncle was dead and there was no one else alive to take up the role.

Laurent looked among the stacks in the library, searching through the old texts for something on political marriages and the hindrance it had on filling the role of king. There was something off about Guion’s words, and Laurent was hell-bent on finding out what it was.

Soon Laurent sat at a table, numerous books and scrolls spread out in front of him. He was determined to find answers, he knew his brother’s future depended on it.

An hour later, when the lamp at his table was nearly out of oil, his eyes burned, and his hands had numerous paper cuts on them. He had found some answers but was not satisfied with his findings so far. He needed the help of someone else, someone with the expertise of the council. His made a mental note to ask Lady Vannes for advice on this situation at supper tonight, she would most likely be there, along with the rest of the council.

What had been found amongst the text was all very vague in word and involved the laws surrounding political marriages. Since he had not been legally bound to Damianos yet, there was still a possibility to break it off, if the need arose. However, even if the marriage were to be broken in order for Laurent to inherit the throne, it would be useless seeing as Laurent was still too young to rule. If Auguste was killed, they had might as well kill Laurent too because he was useless to Vere until he was either of marriage age or ruling age. The only significance Laurent had in any of this was his ties to Akielos. If he got married to Damen, and there was someone new in Auguste’s spot, then he could persuade Damen to wage war on Vere--.

A war.

That was the purpose to all of this. To destabilize Vere enough that it would send them into war with Akielos. What was still unclear to Laurent, was what would Vere benefit from a war. The mass casualties and resources used would leave a dent in Vere’s economics. The only thing worth a war at this time would be if they won Akielos itself.

Fuck.

Laurent gathered some paper and a pen and began to write a letter. He tried to include as many details as he could before sealing up the papers and addressing it. He hesitated in calling for a messenger boy to send the letter. He didn’t know who he could trust in Vere, besides Lady Vannes and his brother. He would have to deliver the letter himself, he could not let this information get into the hands of anyone else.

He would have to deliver the mail himself in the morning, early. He had to see that the letter got onto the ship to Akielos without anyone else touching it. He could not risk the fall out of someone else seeing what he knew. He hid the letter in his fairytale book, certain that no one would look in a children’s book for anything of political importance.

As he made his way to dinner that night, he felt certain of eyes watching him, his every move. The hairs on the back of his head prickles with an unknown fear. Except he knew exactly what he was afraid of. He feared for Auguste’s life. He had to find a way of warning his brother. He could not trust anyone. If the council was split, that meant that he had to watch him back as to who was still supporting his uncle’s ideologies. Auguste would not be safe until every one of his uncle’s supporters were either dead or imprisoned. The country would not be safe until every lingering touch of his uncle’s influence was burned.

Vere had a war coming, and Laurent knew that his brother would need allies. He needed to test the loyalties of his guards and advisors. In Vere, there was no telling who was a serpent in hiding. Laurent knew that he needed the aid (and more importantly the army) of Akielos. Laurent knew, foolishly, that Damen would be willing to start a war for him. And Damen’s father would not be hard to convince. Any man of old was always hungry for a war. It would not take much to push Akielos to that brink if it was needed. He only prayed that the intentions of those in Akielos were as translucent as they seemed. He could not keep an eye on both Akielos and Vere.

For now, though, he had games to play. He entered the banquet hall with his head held eye, finding his seat beside Auguste. As he sat down he surveyed the room and the people in it. The next long months, until Damen would visit in the winter, would a hard wait. He needed to find out who still supported his uncle and who would stand behind his brother.

He caught Councilor Guion’s gaze from across the long table and held it.

_Game on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy! This chapter took a lot faster to write than before! I'm finally getting into a regular writing pattern and I'm getting more comfortable with a writing style that I want to maintain. I think it's always harder to start a story, but now that I'm getting more into the plot, it's a lot easier to just let the words flow. Man how I missed writing.  
> Anywho, as always, thank you for reading!  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!  
> Until next time,  
> xoxo


	4. Fit for a King

 FLASHBACK

_A few months earlier._

The day of Auguste’s coronation was cold, a bitter wind slicing through the kingdom as preparations were being made. Damen was like a ghost, wandering the grounds without many looks being thrown his way. There were greater things to worry about than a young foreign prince. There was too much to do, too many things to finish preparing.

Damen hoped he wasn’t walking funny, but in reality, he most likely was. His growing body, as a young man, didn’t quite enjoy Veretian styled clothes. His pants felt too tight and he had struggled to tighten the ties on his shirt and jacket. The collar was digging into his neck and he rolled his neck in an attempt to loosen it up a bit. He would not blame the tailor, however. It had been a few months since he had his fitting, and to no one’s surprise, the clothes had been a little too small. The tailor, in horror, vowed to put something together, but Damen refused. He didn’t want to trouble the kind man more than he already had.

Besides, it was a one-time event. He would not be back for another Coronation any time soon. At least he hoped not.

Damen quickly moved to the side, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a servant holding a huge bouquet. He watched after the young man with slight amusement, noting how there was an edge of urgency in the air.

The emergence of a new king was unplanned, but there was no time for mourning. The political landscape was being held on a shaky foundation, especially after the murder of King Aleron’s brother; his followers had wanted more justice seen for the would be Regent and for his ideologies. That, coupled with King Aleron’s border policies had caused an unsettling murmur across the Kingdom. Ultimately, it came to a head when the King was killed in a border attack while attempting to settle the bad blood among the border villages. The death had seemed sudden, especially to the King’s two sons. When Damen had heard the news, he made preparations to visit Arles as soon as possible. His father had praised him on his diplomatic efforts, but Damen had simply wanted to be there for his two friends. He could not fathom the idea of losing his father, or any of his family, and then having to rise to ascension. He feared for Auguste’s well-being and for his handlings of the Vere court, for all its unsteady core.

Damen prayed to the gods that his own coronation would be natural, and not of a sudden death. However, he knew things were changing, whether for good or bad. How Auguste handled Vere in the next few years could mean the difference between war and peace. He knew things were rocky in relations to Vask, for Vere at least. The nation had not claimed any responsibility for numerous attacks along the border, simply putting it off as rogue men who still followed a dead man’s cause. Damen felt that there was more to it and had said as much to his father.

Eventually, Damen makes his way back to the palace, desiring to seek out Auguste for a moment before his coronation ceremony. When he reaches the throne room, no one pays him no mind when he enters, mainly because no one is of a high enough rank to tell him no. He finds Auguste there, as expected, sitting forlornly on the throne his chin in his hand.

“Having second thoughts?” Damen calls out in good humor, approaching Auguste with a kind smile on his face.

Thankfully, the joke is taken well, as Auguste lets out a soft laugh and lets his hand fall in his lap. “Even if I was having second thoughts, I do not think I have the luxury of opting out of all of this.”

Damen shrugs. “You could always run away, change your name and cut your hair.” He reaches Auguste and sits down on the throne meant for the King’s Consort.

Auguste laughs again, this time a lighter sound, more genuine. “And what of my brother? The kingdom would fall to his shoulders.”

“Well, when Laurent and I marry, we could unite the kingdoms, as it once was before,” Damen looked over at Auguste. “Besides, you know I would take good care of your brother, as I once promise when we were kids.”

Auguste face softened, and he nodded solemnly. “I know you would take good care of Laurent. I know you _will_ take good care of him. Unfortunately, I will not be abandoning this kingdom any time soon.”

“Are you nervous?” Damen asked a moment later, in reference to running a kingdom.

Auguste let out a little laugh. “I suppose. I mean, who wouldn’t be? This ceremony is coming a lot sooner than I had imagined.” Auguste looked down at his hands, swallowing hard. “I thought I would have more time.”

Damen reached over, gripping Auguste’s hand in his own. “Brother, please know that you are not alone. You will always have an ally and a friend in Akielos. And I do not just mean Nikandros.”

Auguste looked up at Damen, teary-eyed but smiling. “And you will always have an ally and friend in Vere. How is Nikandros? I am sad he could not come.”

Damen laughed, the boisterous sound echoing across the throne room. “He sends his regards, and he misses you just as much as you miss him.”

Auguste blushed slightly at that, letting go of Damen’s hand to shove at his shoulder. “I hope that I will be able to find time in the future for all of us to be together again. A summer trip to Isthimia is greatly needed, especially after the harsh winter Vere has endured.”

“Hopefully after things settle down here, we can find the time for our trip. I am sure Nikandros would love to spend a summer with you,” Damen teased, shoving back at Auguste.

Auguste blushed a brighter red, stuttering. “You cannot treat me like this! I am going to be a King!”

Damen laughed louder, and the two began to roughhouse just as the doors opened. Laurent sauntered in, looking Princely in his Coronation outfit. His was laced up in a deep royal blue jacket, the collar extending up his neck and to his jaw, and trousers to match. His boots clicked loudly on the marble floors as he approached the pair of men, eyes narrowing.

“I am not even surprised to find you two here, wrestling like two juvenile boys. No one would believe me if I were to say that one of you was getting crowned King today.”

Auguste bounced down from the throne, wrapping an arm around Laurent’s neck and pulling him close, ruffling his hair playfully. “Oh, brother dear, let us keep our spirits high today, yes? It is needed.”

Laurent tried to pull away with a noise of complaint, elegant fingers combing down the mused hair. “I have no protests against a light-hearted mood, but the servants will be in here soon to set everything up, and I do not think it will do your reputation well if they see their future King roughhousing with Akielos’ Crown Prince.”

Auguste pulled away and Damen joined them on the main floor of the throne room, bowing his head slightly as an informal greeting to Laurent. “He is right, Auguste. Would not want to cast doubts in the minds of your subjects already.”

“Well, then let us go to my study for some tea before this show gets started. I have a feeling I will need a quiet moment while I can still get it because, after this, my life is drastically going to change.”

 

* * *

 

 

The throne room was quiet for a moment, everyone seemingly holding their breath as they watched Auguste enter the room and start to walk down the long room and to the front of the thrones, where an officiator and the council were waiting. Laurent and Damen waited off to the side of the council, being of the highest rank in the room beside Auguste himself. A couple of servants were walking several feet behind Auguste to hold his cape above the ground, the deep blue fabric standing stark against Auguste’s pale skin. The only skin seen on Auguste was the pale of his face, his head held high and his gold Prince circlet resting on his brow. His hair was braided back in an elaborate fashion, with thin ropes of gold weaved through it. The council had voiced objection to Auguste keeping his hair long as a king, reminding him that it was a thing of one’s childhood, to keep the hair long. However, Auguste was fond of his long hair and opted to just ignore the council on their comments.

When Auguste reached the council, and the council placed a gold staff and orb in his open hands. Auguste turned to face the crowd, his cape curling around his face as he looked forward. Beside Damen, Laurent instinctually reached out to grab his arm, perhaps for comfort, but thought against it at the last minute and clasped his hands together in front of him. Damen saw this out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself before looking towards Auguste once more.

A councilmember came forward, walking to the side of Auguste, and reached up to remove the gold circlet on Auguste’s head. Another councilmember approached from the other side and placed a large crown on his head. The crown looked heavy, it was made from a solid gold, with various jewels placed in an elaborate pattern along the swirls of gold. If it was heavy, it did not show. Auguste maintained his high stance as the crown was placed on his head. Damen and Laurent looked on with pride.

And so the ceremony began, with a councilmember reciting an old Vere text that was used at Auguste’s father’s coronation and at his father’s before him. Damen could pick out most of the words, but it was an ancient form of Veretian, and so much of the text was hard to understand. However, Laurent seemed to be holding onto every word was spoken, his eyes intensely trained on Auguste, as if to gauge his every reaction and movement.

“Do you vow to serve and protect this country and its people until your passing?”  
“I do.” Auguste’s voice rang clear throughout the hall; the voice of a leader.

“Do you vow to provide this country with a viable heir, one that will follow in your footsteps and honor what you have laid forth for this country, just as you do for your father?”

“I do.” Auguste was tearing up, and at this, Laurent’s eyes began to get shiny too. This was a bittersweet moment for the two of them, a ceremony that drove home that their father was never going to rule Vere again, that that mantel was officially being passed down to Auguste. It all felt as if everything was happening too soon.

“In the name of our motherland, Vere and any independent governances that fall under Vere, the council recognizes Auguste of Vere as the monarch and ruler of Vere. May the gods protect and serve you well during your rule. All those in favor of this monarch, say I.”

The council all echoed the affirmation, followed by the crowd echoing the same sentiment.

“By the power of the Veretian Council and all of its members, I hereby pronounce you King of Vere.”

Bells began to ring outside the castle, to be heard throughout Arles. Vere had a new king. Auguste took a seat on the throne, looking out into the crowd and catching his brother’s eye. He smiled softly at his younger brother. Laurent began to cry openly now, pride and sorrow showing on his face as he held back from running to his brother. Damen rested a hand on Laurent’s shoulder, who looked up to see Damen smile at him.

“Your brother is going to make an amazing king, Laurent.”

Laurent had no comeback this time, instead opting to nod and smile tearfully. “He really is.”

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night, after the long-lasting festivities celebrating the crowning of a new king, Auguste and Damen were lounging in Auguste’s quarters. The fire behind them was burning fiercely, emitting a warm glow through the room. The two men sat by the fire, wine glasses in hand as they discussed the days’ festivities following the coronation ceremony.

“I could have sworn you were going to trip on that ridiculously long cape when you walked into the room.”

Auguste laughed into his wine glass, a warm sound. “You are not the only one to think that, friend. I had protested to the tailor that it really was ridiculously long for a ceremonial cape, but tradition is a tradition. Thank gods I did not fall flat on my face in front of the council. That would only give them more reason to doubt me as king.”

“Is it true? That you face a split council, one side that supported your father’s ideals and one that supported your uncle’s?”

Auguste turned solemn, staring into the fire with a grim look on his face. “I am afraid so. When my uncle was still alive, there were councilmen that support his proposed laws and the ideas he tried to give my father. I have no doubt that they would have supported a coup in order to take over my father, had I not gotten to my uncle first. Why they still support my dead uncle’s twisted ideals is a mystery to me. But I will be dealing with it nonetheless in the next coming months.”

“Even the council in Akielos is hearing murmurings of your uncle’s influence through Vere,” Damen replied, running a hand along his sharp jaw. “Something just…does not seem right, about any of this.”

Auguste looked up from the fire to look at Damen. “I know what you mean. My father’s death, at the hands of a rogue Vaskian border tribe. It does not seem right. There were no survivors from my father’s entourage that day, suspiciously. Those who supposedly lived were missing from the ambushed camp, supposedly taken in by the tribe. Empress Vishkar swears that this was not her doing, but I have aimed to not believe her.”  
“I would keep a close eye on Vask. But there is always the possibility that the ambush was carried out by those posing as a Vaskian border tribe.”  
“What would Vask have to gain from a war with Vere? The only reason I have not declared it already is that the whole thing feels suspicious. And I have contention within my own court to deal with before I deal with other nations.” Auguste rubbed at his brow, the youthfulness on his face was fading as he approached his twenty-ninth birthday.

Damen thought for a moment. “Vask is close allies with Akielos, having a strong trade system. Perhaps a war with Vask would prompt Akielos to take action as well?”

“You think someone has the intention of starting a war between Vere and Akielos?”

Damen shrugged. “It is a possibility. Your uncle could have been working towards dismantling Vere’s government before his death. Someone might be carrying out what has been planned for a while now.”

Auguste seemed deep in thought now, eyes unfocused on the fire. The door to the quarters opened softly and Laurent walked in. The young man was in a thin nightshirt that ran down to his knees. He was rubbing at his eyes, hair softly mused.

Laurent gaze fell on Auguste, and sequentially Damen. Damen smiled at Laurent in greeting and, in the light of the fire, Laurent’s face turned pink with a blush and he turned away. He made his way to Auguste’s bed, pulling back the covers and slipping under them without a word.

“He probably had a nightmare,” Auguste commented softly, quiet enough for just Damen to hear.

Damen looked back at Laurent’s still form and wondered if he was attempting to listen in on their conversation. “How has he been doing? With everything.”

“If I am being honest, I think he is trying to put on a brave face, for my sake. He is too noble for his own good. Try to talk to him about it, when he goes to Akielos in the spring.”

Damen nodded in agreement. “I will try to talk to him about, but I hold no promises about it. You know how he holds his feelings in.”  
Auguste sighed, finishing off his wine with a gulp before setting the glass down on an adjacent table. “I know. It ails me to think of him suffering in silence. But it does bring me comfort to know that he has someone like you to look out for him when I cannot.”

Damen finished his glass as well, setting the goblet down beside Auguste’s and made to stand. “I will let you rest. Are we still on for our horse riding tomorrow?”

Auguste smiled up at Damen, who stood over him. “Of course. I will never miss an opportunity to beat you at a sport.”

Damen laughed, and reached out to ruffle Auguste’s hair, now having fallen out of its braid from earlier. “I expect nothing less from you, King.”

Auguste scoffed, waving away the new title and Damen left with a soft laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yikes it's been almost a month since I updated this story, but here I am. Life sucks sometimes, ya know? I've dealt with what seems like the worst in the past month but I'm still alive and breathing and that's all that matters. 
> 
> As always, I hope you guys enjoy! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!  
> I'll see you guys next week for the next chapter (it's halfway done and twice as long as past chapters!!!) 
> 
> xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to keep up with my other fandom stuff, my tumblr's are @shcntelle (where I follow from), @cptdxnvers, and @transdamen (my capri side blog!)


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